


Ostensibly /ss/ Disgusting Satiation Future Plan to Avoid World Destruction

by Tas_tan



Category: Original Work
Genre: /ss/, Dirty Talk, Excessive Semen, F/M, Kissing, Large Cock, MILF, Older Sister, Pseudo Incest, Shota, cum milking, sloppy facefucking, vaccum blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:48:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28209321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tas_tan/pseuds/Tas_tan
Summary: In the future, Relief Androids have become a popular choice of partner for niggas worldwide. Everything is tight until something catastrophic happens in this future and the androids themselves are repurposed to wipe out the human race. To prevent this, a handful of these androids are sent back in time to prevent their creator from orchestrating the catastrophe from their timelineHow? Why vibrantly degenerate/disgusting milf/onee/other cool archetype oriented intercourse of course. I guess some other shit might be involved, but who knows if you'll actually get to read it.
Kudos: 23





	Ostensibly /ss/ Disgusting Satiation Future Plan to Avoid World Destruction

**Author's Note:**

> This story builds upon content from several others that I've wrote. You don't need to have read any of them to get the point of this one, but yeah.

**RELIEF ANDROIDS & THE WAR OF AMBITION**

In the year 20xx, an 11-year-old Ein Aharhelit presented a sentient synthetic human by the name of ‘Isabelle’ to technological communities worldwide. Presented then as a combination of pre-existing artificial organ fashioning processes, minimal amounts of synthetic flesh built atop a mechanical skeleton, and a proprietary cognitive system of his own design, her existence (as he described it) was to represent a proof of concept for the advancement of the field of ‘artificial life’ as a whole.

What he deemed to be a mere ‘proof of concept’ was to the world at large the presentation of a finished product ripe for dissection and reproduction. By definition, her capacity for speech, independent thought, and the innumerable ‘other’ functionalities built into her frame marked Isabelle as a one-of-a-kind miracle of modern science. Later classified as the IS-01, confirmation of her being developed as Ein described resulted in a slew of inquiries as to how the experiments that had produced her might be replicated, and how the parent company in ownership of her intended to build upon her for the betterment of humankind.

Averdine—the technical/biotechnical conglomerate to which Ein Aharhelit was affiliated—responded to these inquiries immediately. Not three months after her existence was revealed to the world at large, a press conference held by Ein and representatives from the conglomerate itself presented three similarly constructed androids to the general public. Intentionally customized to provide representation for different body types and apparent ages without deviating too significantly from their progenitor, these androids were lauded as three potential ‘execution frames’ of a soon-to-be mass-produced product. Titled then as ‘Relief Androids’, a date was provided for their release, and pertinent aspects of their existence were divulged in excruciating detail.

On the surface, the androids were to be caretakers tasked with assisting with the maintenance of households (in the case of families) and the availing of companionship (in the case of single males). The fact that all three of the base models presented were females endowed with more alluring curves, fatter breasts, wider hips, and-you-get-where-I’m-going-with-this-my nigga alongside sexual and reproductive capacities that put their human counterparts to shame was discounted by Averdine as ‘coincidental by-products’ of Ein’s desire to capture human ideals to the very best of his ability. When questioned directly, Ein himself reiterated this fact with an undeniable sweetness, and used the opportunity to advocate for their installation as surrogates for couples incapable of perception, and in more extreme cases ‘partners for those otherwise incapable of human companionship’.

From this day onward, the technological community came to regard cunning in children as alignments of happenstance with personal benefit. Equipped with both the funding and public reputation required to fast-track their newest product, Averdine endured no difficulty in obtaining ethical clearance of their product. Within two years of their release, the cost, accessibility, and functionality of relief androids resulted in their being infused into global populations as a form of ethnic group. While considered as ‘less than human’ by society at large (an attribution that each and every android wore as a badge of pride), the fondness that they evoked in their largely-male owner base and their ability to effortlessly display natural human behavior resulted in the world embracing them as it would’ve any other major technological advancements.

Needless to say, niggas were still out there hating. Sometimes under banners suggesting that artificial life so close to human life in capacity ought not exist, and other times under those that suggested that male ownership of Relief Androids threatened the ‘natural position’ held by human women, opponents to the androids’ development and sale pursued the product’s abolishment from the first week of its sale. 

When these arguments failed to rally the general public against Averdine, the lead developer and spokesperson for the androids became their next target. That a product sometimes tractable to a ‘wet dream for growing males’ was designed, developed, and subsequently maintained by one such growing male seemed to these individuals as grounds for its rejection. To them, the hundreds of thousands of dollars required to develop a single unit was tantamount to similar sums of money being spent on masturbatory fuel; a gross misuse of capital even within societies predisposed towards consumerism.

Like their last, this approach failed miserably. Time and time again, the nature of the opponent faced by these bannermen (a conglomerate with stellar public relations) and the political backing that it maintained ensured that their complaints fell on deaf ears. 4 years following their presentation, the popularity and pervasiveness of Relief Androids was carried by consumers to an extent comparable to the first modernized vehicles.

Amidst such prosperity, the idea of catastrophe proved so far removed from the minds of man that its occurrence caught them incapable of responding to it.

Made to stew in discontentment for years on end, the opponents of Ein Aharhelit’s creations ceased their attacks on him, and redirected their malice towards the individual responsible for him. Some weeks prior to her 35th birthday, Lailah Mitzel—known only by a select handful of individuals as Ein’s birth mother—was murdered by an individual who, upon capture by law enforcement, claimed affiliation with the opponents of Averdine’s business practices. 

None, not even those who had intended to do her son emotional harm, could have predicted the result of this man’s actions.

Within a week of Lailah’s death, the global Relief Android population revolted against humanity. On the same day at the very same time, the female androids happily invested themselves into the violent, indiscriminate murder of the humans closest to them. Though the vast majority did so under genuine duress, others disassociated themselves from the acts a human might’ve when subjected to intense trauma. 

Experiences aside, their actions were uniform. Quick to recognize the only plausible ‘root’ for such controlled behavior, Averdine was requisitioned by governments worldwide to accept responsibility for their products and enact the fail-safe measures implanted with them.

Those at the helm of the company attempted to do precisely this. However, as a result of their leaving the most everything concerned with the androids in the capable hands of their creator, none of them stood equipped to resolve the situation without help from Ein.

Upon setting out in search of the boy, what they found was a message whose contents remain ambiguous to this day.

“He was right and I was wrong. I can’t make the world better—all I can do is help it start over.”

Throughout the days that followed the message’s discovery, resources that could have been allocated to determining Ein’s whereabouts were taken up in forestalling the end of the modern world. As if tied to the Relief Android revolt, otherworldly creatures predisposed to the murder and consumption of males and the entrapment of females began appearing throughout the world in staggering numbers. Already worn from combat with androids designed to be more durable and resourceful than the human species, halting their encroachment of the planet proved too tall a task for the world’s military. Without knowledge as to the creatures’ origin or how best to combat them, conflicts with them quickly devolved into a losing firefight with an enemy whose numbers appeared infinite.

As the day wherein humanity was brought to its knees inched ever closer, those with the means and knowledge to pursue aversion did all that they could to save what remained of their society.

In ownership of both, a young woman by the name of Elisa Bright sought to somehow ensure that the events responsible for the world’s decay never came to pass. In possession of resources and knowledge with the potential to overturn the rules of nature, she acquired access to three of the original four Relief Androids and tasked them with the salvation of the future.

Prior to dispatching them, the means with which they were to accomplish this were made unambiguous.

5 years prior to the war’s initiation, Ein Aharhelit existence was that of a boy teetering between chasms of conviction and detachment. Using abilities innate to her own existence, Elisa intended to transport the trio to the past so that they might create cushions for his psyche sturdy enough to soften the impact of things capable of ‘pushing’ him in one direction or another.

In doing so, they’d destroy the root from which their detestable future had sprouted:

The petulant dependence of a child.

-

  
  


**THE RESIDENCE OF LAILAH MITZEL— 5 YEARS PRIOR TO THE WAR OF AMBITION**

Underneath the accomplishments and capacity owned by Ein Aharhelit existed a 10-year-old boy much like any other. 

By necessity, most of the effort that he expended on a daily basis was effort expended so as to keep the realities of his youth from bleeding through his persona. After years spent obtaining sufficiently prominent positions within one of only a handful of organizations large enough to aid in accomplishing his goals, presenting himself with the maturity that these positions required seemed a small price to pay for the ability to continue his work. If sometimes tiresome, his commitment to maintaining this façade of professionalism had facilitated it becoming second nature for him. Consequently, no matter where he placed himself or who he surrounded himself with, acting in a manner contrary to his appearance remained a ‘rule’ for him as opposed to an exception.

Within the confines of the house he had grown up in, a very different ‘rule’ reigned supreme. Four days into what was to be a comfortable handful of summer weeks spent alongside his mother, the youth in Ein had all but completely consumed his daily behavior. Whilst speaking and thinking as the child responsible for developing the IS-01, he stayed up far later than was healthy, slept in far later than was prudent, and spent vast swathes of what time his mother did not demand to be glued to him at the hip sprawled out across his bed or seated at his computer.

Much like any other child, the fact that his behavior had slipped so wasn’t apparent to him, either. On the latest day of his vacation, it was the furthest thing from his mind. Of importance to him was ensuring that he dragged his pale, bed-headed frame out from the comfortable stickiness of his bedroom, and later on ensuring that he somehow drained caffeine into himself before his mother appeared to demand that the two of them ‘do something fun together’.

Being himself, Ein managed the majority of this without difficulty. After clearing his amber eyes of the fatigue that plagued them and thinning the bags of sleep deprivation held under them, habits honed throughout his time at home carried him down from the estate’s second floor into the coolly-tiled familiarity of its kitchen. Detached from the orange-blue light gifted to its interior by the cloudless sunrise occurring outside, his arrival here saw him set about brewing coffee for himself without once stopping to assess his surroundings.

Had he, he may well have never set about preparing coffee for himself at all. Far too preoccupied with his longing for warm caffeine, his eyes missed a number of glaring outliers strewn out throughout the kitchen as he worked.

Foremost among them was its occupation. In total, three individuals that were not his mother had made themselves comfortable within the kitchen in preparation for his arrival. Whilst two sat in silence at the circular breakfast table set within the kitchen’s corner, one stood directly to the right of the counterspace that Ein worked atop.

The next most ‘glaring’ facet of his surroundings concerned these individuals as well. At a glance, all three of them appeared to be a young woman between 17 and 25 years of age. Further, the attire they had dressed themselves in was remarkably congruent. In all three cases, a black, leotard-shaped body suit accented by design choices that could be expected from a one-piece, turtle-necked bathing suit represented the only clothing draped across their frames. Save a variation in color at their outer fringes and the extent to which they were swelled by the assets that they contained, differentiating one of the suits from the others was impossible.

Finally, and perhaps most curiously, all of the young women bore facial tattoos. Consisting of what appeared to be a horizontal barcode spread across their cheeks alongside an alphanumeric code colored to match the outer sides of their body suits, their composition did not seem like something typically captured within ‘modern trends’.

On recognition of these things, a layman was liable to assume that a trio of costumed actors had invaded their home. Relative to any of the other countless explanations for the young women and their presence, this one was by far the most reasonable and the least ‘effortful’ with regard to digestion.

  
Ein, however, was the furthest thing from a layman. Prior to returning home, the development of the clothing that they were wearing and the codes imprinted against their cheeks were tasks that he had completed in preparation for an upcoming project. 

Per the contents of this project, who they were and what they were doing would have occurred to him immediately:

**_FUNCTION DEFINITION #12_ **

_Without assignment, Relief Androids are programmed to return to their place of manufacture. If not otherwise specified, the coordinates of Ein Aharhelit’s residence will suffice throughout the development stages of the project._

To reiterate, Ein never connected the dots set out by his surroundings. Left to his own devices for about a minute or so, the young women within the kitchen waited for him to complete the setup required for his coffee before making their presences known.

Of them, the first to do so was the one at his side.

“Excuse me…ah…Creator?” she began, nervously. “I do see that you’re in the middle of making yourself some coffee, but may we speak for a moment?”

Addressed, Ein’s line of sight was drawn directly towards the formless blob that had occupied the corner of his eye. Rendered speechless at the exact moment he began to process what it was, the young woman took the shock that spread out across his face as a cue to continue speaking.

“Ahaha~ I’ve never seen you make such a face, Creator. I’ll admit that we were not together for long after my completion, but to me, you did not seem capable of such surprise when we met.” she continued, giggling.

“I must say that I prefer this version of you much more. Not that I’m not grateful to have been created by the other you, of course.”

In her apparent contentment, the young woman did not lose sight of her purpose. Recognizing her meandering away from it, these utterances saw her pause and flatten her smile so as to refocus herself on what was required of her.

Impressively, this only required another handful of seconds from her.

“Ah, please excuse my rambling. _You_ haven’t completed me yet, so all of this must be very confusing.” now speaking in a much more measured tone, she set her right hand atop the midsection of her cleavage in preparation for an address.

“I am Wendy. Specifically, I am a generalized version of the WY-100 Relief Android that you will create in the future. In human years, I appear to be approximately 23 years of age. In reality, I am approximately 4.” 

“My sisters and I have come here from the very near future to ensure that you are adequately supported throughout the next few years. I cannot tell you how or why this is necessary—only that we intend to dedicate our existences to this cause.”

“To this end, we have invaded your home on this particular date, and have made certain that your mother will not be joining us for the next hour or so. I cannot speak for my sisters, but I intend to do everything that I can to earn your forgiveness for this transgression. 

“I doubt that it will make things right, but as one of your children, I must still make an attempt.”

In the wake of her utterances, Wendy intensified the inviting warmth she had pushed into her features, and subsequently adopted silence to allow her creator ample time to digest her introduction. Being the individual responsible for her existence, she reasoned that he’d quickly connect the dots she had presented and move on to an attempt at prying the whole truth from her.

This in mind, she readied herself to block any and all rebuttals he might produce as calmly as she could.

Were he less flustered, Ein was likely to have used his time precisely as Wendy assumed he would. Ultimately, though, Wendy’s preparation went to waste. A full minute after her introduction, the bed-headed youth stood without a single question as to who Wendy was and where she had come from.

Following her introduction, his sole curiosity concerned how and with what resources he had managed to create her in the first place.

Ahead of him stood a perfectly accurate physical manifestation of an idea that he had mulled over for months. No matter the angle he observed her from, perfection was all that he could see. Seashell-white skin textured and colored in a manner more ‘human’ than what he had managed with the pale-grey material he had used for Isabelle and figure sculpted to an extent that exceeded his original creation in terms of ‘normalcy’ (relative to a generous definition), the shortcomings that defined his original creation—if one were to go as far as defining them this way—were nowhere to be seen about her frame.

Had he not been told about what she was in advance, the idea that she was a Relief Android would have never crossed his mind. As he had been told, he was instead left with the inevitable task of accepting that her appearance existed as a direct result of executional talents that he did not yet have.

From her skull down to the end of her upper back, vanilla-blonde hair straight at mid-length and mildly curled (or wavy) at its ends framed features drawn into an endearing smile. Dense yet glossy, the synthetic substance somehow presented as human hair kept in the utmost condition. Topped off by a pair of thick, cleavage-length bangs bundled at their midsections by what appeared to be hairclips, the sight of it forced Ein to repeatedly remind himself that the individual he was looking at had been ‘made’ as opposed to ‘born’.

Her face demanded this and more of him. As though framing by her hair was not enough enhancement for it, patches of blushed flesh could be seen spread out across her cheeks at positions directly below her eyelids. Given the contents of her address and her apparent endearment towards him, the ‘effect’ that they exuded as combined with her youthful features, singularly-fanged maw, and emerald-green eyes was irresistible.

If not for the size and ‘finish’ of her physical assets, Ein feared that looking away from her face might’ve physically hurt him. Despite owning typically-sized arms and a femininely-narrow shoulder span, obscenely-perky K-Cup breasts larger and rounder than her skull pressed the chest portion of her bodysuit outwards to an extent that not only thinned, but visibly strained its material at both sides of her chest.

Naturally, the striations of her outfit were easy to forget relative to the breasts that they encapsulated. Wholly resistant to the natural sloping and sagging that plagued naturally massive breasts, their teardrop shape and wobbly, flesh-based squishiness stood as the only proof that they were not entirely artificial. In truth, they were; presuming that Wendy was in fact an improvement on Isabelle, their composition was almost certainly a more lifelike form of puffy, synthetic flesh. 

For a second or so, the question of how he had managed to develop such a buoyant substance baffled Ein to the point of confusion. For every second afterwards, the gravid scale of her breasts and their refusal to rest against (and therefore obscure) her midsection was the only thing that he bothered to process. As a result of their make, the just-slightly chub-padded state of Wendy’s midsection (i.e, the fringes of fat visible at the covered edges of her hips and the front of her stomach) were perfectly visible to him. Additionally, the state of her hips was spared from a losing confrontation with their excess. Wider than average, yet lacking the obtuse fertility built into her predecessor, this one aspect of her frame leant more to her status as a shapely young woman than any other part of her. Though the thighs that descended from them were rounded with chub in spots that made them seem unfairly thick relative to her waist, the petiteness of her hips actually grounded her appearance in some form of reality.

Needless to say, this reality remained extremely difficult for Ein to swallow. A boy far more capable than he was confident, Wendy’s appeal bellied a challenge that he did not see himself as being able to rise to. That he had in some version of the future meant nothing to him—then and there, the broad strokes of his thought processes could be defined by a single statement:

_“There’s no way that I managed this.”_

Thoughts aside, he knew far better than to slip into denial. Thus far witness to all manner of reality defying event—some even perpetrated by individuals he deemed to be friends—he eventually accepted what Wendy presented to him on the premise that it was ‘more likely than not’.

On doing so, his attention at last shifted onto the matter at hand.

“…I believe you. It’s nice to meet you as well, Wendy.” he started, calmly. “I don’t really like entertaining the concept of time travel, but I have a friend who could probably facilitate something like this. I can’t imagine why he’d care about something like this, though.”

“Anyway, you said you can’t tell me why you’re here, and as much as I’d like to force you, I don’t think I’ve developed a way how to yet.” he continued. “I don’t want to have to force you, so can you at least tell me why your coming here from the future is so important? Isabelle has helped me manage my limits a lot, and of late, I’ve even had something to work towards as well—something unrelated to my plans to make you, too.”

“It’s not like I’m about the fly off the deep end. I really don’t see why I’d need any more help than I ha—” 

Very quickly did it become apparent that something within the utterances Ein produced touched upon topics related to the Relief Android presence in his kitchen. He could not be certain of this, but following a sequential compression of breasts against the top half of his face and lips against the surface of his lips, the possibility that he may’ve spoken out of turn became too likely for him to ignore.

In his preoccupation with Wendy, the two Relief Androids she had regarded as her sisters ambushed him. As the taller of the pair robbed him of his sight, one sized comparably to him scrambled his senses with an invasion of the back of his throat with a modestly-studded tongue.

Before he knew it, the weight impressed against his lips and skull dragged his frame down to an abbreviated back-first plant across the ground. After the descent of his upper back drove it down into contact with what felt like a pair of squishy pillows pushed up against one another, the rest of him was flattened across the floor as it ought’ve been.

Throughout, the weights responsible for depressing him did not disappear. If anything, they became more nuanced—assuming one was willing to describe the smothering of the top half of his face with sweetly-scented flesh and a tighter impression of lips against his cheeks as matters of nuance to begin with. While no longer taken aback by the sensations, the added intensity that they acquired from this stymied his attempts at pushing away from those who had assailed him just long enough for his chance at doing so to disappear.

Within this period of nothingness, a pair of events occurred.

As far as his ears could tell, the first pertained to a conversation that ‘included’ him in a very loose sense of the word.

“You’ll have to forgive us as well, Creator. Now that Wendy has introduced us, it is important that we get started as soon as possible.” sounding out from above him, a voice that likely belonged to the Relief Android whose breasts were smothered atop his face addressed Ein with the same warm candor Wendy had. “For reference, I was designated as an Mx-100, or ‘Mika’ for short. Having gotten the chance to spend time with you like this, I’d prefer if you’d refer to me as “dear”, or “daughter” if you’re feeling especially generous.”

“Even if she won’t say so, I'm certain that Wendy probably feels similarly. Perhaps not exactly as I do, but close enough.”

Directly after these utterances reached his ears, Ein felt a set of slender fingers slide underneath the waistline of his shorts. As soon as they were placed, smooth depressions of the hands that they were attached to dispossessed his lower body of the only clothing he had worn to bed the night before. Now seconds into an arousing two-pronged assault of his frame, the garment’s slippage off of his ankles exposed a semi-erect loaf of abnormally obese, and incidentally, abnormally vascular cockflesh out into the open air.

So as to best situate himself for fine-tuning the products that he created, Ein had not been shy about altering the composition of his body. Both prior to and throughout the development of the IS-01, he had regularly injected himself with compounds capable of bloating his member to its current, bicep-thick girth, and had taken care to supplement it with others that grossly enhanced his testicles’ ability to produce semen. The end result of these efforts was a pale phallus reddened and sickle-like at its tip whilst erect, and exteriorly riddled with lengthy, flesh-tenting blood vessels whose length (and propensity to cross over one another) presented the surface of his cock as bulkier and more hole-rending than its 13-inch length already implied.

All too familiar with the state of his frame, Ein imagined that the exposure of his length would give pause to the person responsible for undressing him. Speaking out against their actions, much less apologizing for the virile stench and garish cockflesh they had exposed themselves to was not possible for him with his mouth occupied, but if all went as he believed it would, his doing so would become unnecessary. 

All did not go as he believed it would. Rendered far too optimistic by the shattering of his reality and the stirring of a tongue littered with bulbous nubs against the back of his throat, the sudden nuzzling of slender, gloss-moistened lips against the glob of precum fattened at the tip of his glans took Ein completely by surprised. Exclamation suppressed by the lips kissing his own, he immediately defaulted to a strained tensing of his abdominals and a nervous wriggling of his hips in an attempt at ‘coping’.

Tragically, neither of these activities helped much when the same pair of lips began descending along his member. Almost instantaneously, an injection of force speared the unruly bloat of his cock across the face of his assailant’s tongue until his glans was firmly embraced by her throat. Carried past this point into the congested swell of her esophagus within the same motion, the end to their descent (the lips) came only after their faces were impressed against the sweaty flesh at the root of his cock.

Out of habit, Ein expected the very worst following this event. Fundamentally, Relief Androids were designed to excel as both emotional and sexual companions. To this end, their tongues were inches longer than their human counterparts (and studded in key areas with bulbous protrusions intended to enhance their use), and their digestive tracts were entirely composed of fattened synthetic flesh programmed to ooze a dense lubricant. Given that his assailant had effortlessly swallowed the full length of his cock into a sleeve of flesh matching this description, her ‘making use’ of the gooey tract’s nature seemed inevitable.

Comically, the boy’s expectations were betrayed for a second time. After a swirl of mucus-greased tongue flesh around the root of his member and a quiver-wrought expulsion of the same substance against the trunk of his shaft, the same lips that had so seamlessly plunged across his length were drawn back up to its tip as backed by painful amounts of suction.

Behind the sodden *PT-LAPP~!* induced from their popping off of the tip of his member came a mixture of apology and declaration from his third assailant. 

With her voice, determining where one of these things ended (apology or declaration) and the other began escaped Ein entirely.

“Please do not listen to Mika, Creator, I-I most certainly do not have strange fetishes like that…” Wendy began, voice strained by embarrassment. “I-I mean, I wouldn’t stop you from addressing me as your sister or child if you so choose, b-but it would not change the effort that I put into supporting you.

“Since you gave all of us access to the information and techniques required to do this effectively, I will go ahead and show you my conviction right now!” she added, confidently. “I think it will be a very vulgar, and perhaps even painful for you given your age. I will not stop from this moment onward, so once again, I will apologize in advance for imposing myself like this.”

“It may be difficult to understand now, but I am only doing what any child would do for their parent ♥.”

Ein was allowed to think on the meaning behind Wendy’s response for a pair of seconds before his thoughts were forced back onto his frame. In these seconds, Wendy again plunged her lips along the gleaming, musk-saturated exterior of his member until they returned to its root. In doing so, she squeezed his shaft’s sensitive bloat through the bulbous vice of esophagus flesh waiting behind her throat, and subjected all of these inches to a claustrophobic ‘mushing’ against their excess.

Next, she sprang upwards. No sooner did a guttural *GLORSH* signal his member’s gluey disappearance behind her lips did Wendy create a vibrant *SHLORSH~!* by driving herself upwards again. Maintaining all of the pressure and suction applied by her gullet without once focusing herself on the tasks, she seamlessly bounced her lips straight back up to the tip of his member without batting an eyelash.

At this, she applied herself in a manner that made the warnings that she produced seem much more valid. First, she exchanged her position hunched forward between Ein’s legs for one that planted her knees just off to the edge of his left hip. After bracing her left palm against the surface of his right inner thigh (so as to maintain her skull’s level position with his crotch), she intentionally sputtered wads of her esophagus’ lubrication out against the meat of his glans in a series of messily segmented sheets. This done, she used a mixture of air pressure from her lungs and swirls from her tongue to messily stir the slop that she discharged around his cocktip’s girth in slow, sensual circles that highlighted the monstrous length of her tongue.

Finally, as though she had accomplished nothing at all, she spiked her skull back down to the root of his cock. Carrying most, if not all of the glut she had spewed down through a pleasurable smear across his mast as she went, she completed her descent with the delivery of a slovenly kiss against the mess-plastered exterior of his crotch.

This descent was not like those that preceded it. Owed to the changed angling of her skull, the impression of cockmeat into her esophagus subjected the sensitive organ to a different configuration of her sleeve’s turgid puffiness. Aware of what it would produce from its outset—this being an avalanche of juicy, convulsion-prone flesh along Ein’s cock at a tight angle—Wendy complimented it with a skin-tight contraction of her throat-cunt against her tiny suitor’s shaft, and yet another application of teasing, clockwise tongue-swirls around the vein-mapped exterior of his cock root.

Using these strokes of her skull as a foundation, Wendy created a metronome that only another Relief Android could replicate. Despite being perfectly capable of rapidly plunging her gullet up and down along Ein’s shaft, she invested herself in a much slower chain of ascents and descents highlighted by suction, motion from her tongue, and regular, fluttered ejections of throatslop released each and every time she dragged her lips to the tip of his glans. Apparently undaunted by the monstrous girth of the organ that she was throating, this conveyed in the smoothness and vigor visible in the strokes that she completed, yet at the same time utterly shameless in the expulsion of lubrication from her face, her efforts soon acquired a ‘monstrous’ quality that defied her status as a machine.

At a glance, she was not merely pleasuring her creator’s shaft with her throat—

She was feeding herself with it: slovenly, ravenously, and without the slightest interest in whether or not her suitor could tolerate it.

Not surprisingly, her serpentine metronome eventually bore a slew of static befitting its contents. Each time she ascended, a muddy *SCLHOOOORP~!* complimented by the airy burble of throatslop from the corners of her lips rippled out through the air. Similarly, each root-depth plunge that she completed induced a muted *GLORP* heavy enough to allude to the phallus-flattening peristalsis she pressed against Ein’s cock. Both made even more disgusting by the pressurized slurping applied by her lips and the quiet squelching produced by her tongue’s rolling around his cock’s girth, the noises’ combination allowed for anyone with ears to comprehend the full scope of her throating’s nastiness…

Even especially-tiny individuals suffocating underneath breast flesh whilst in the midst of drinking a young woman’s saliva. Despite having no need for ‘additional detail’ concerning the siphoning of his cock, Ein remained far too close to the starved throating of his member to miss any of the noises that accompanied it.

Up until their outflow, managing the three-pronged molestation of his frame in silence had been manageable for him—albeit just barely. Not entirely unused to the sexual capacity of Relief Androids and the thoughtless devotion they were capable of applying to a single task, most of the effort that he exerted concerned keeping himself still. Whereas his mind was used to the cock-draining pleasure that was ground along his cock, his frame hadn’t endured it in months. As a result, the cycles of her metronome occasionally yoked involuntary contractions through her crotch and abdominals. 

For the most part, his efforts curtailed these jerks into twitches minimal enough to be missed. Nevertheless, Wendy responded to each of them with a tightening of her palm’s impression against his inner thigh, and especially aggressive plunges (or reels) of her wriggling orifice along his member.

When these occasional exacerbations were joined by the raucous noise her facefucking produced, keeping himself silent and motionless became just slightly too difficult for him to manage. Desperate to somehow manage his stimulation before something within him was utterly ruined by it, he turned his attention to the only aspect of his swathing that he was capable of surmounting.

Within several aggression swings of his skull, he dislodged his second assailant’s tongue from his throat and forcibly peeled their lips out of contact with one another. Then, with jagged, saliva-glazed lips unfit for speech, he spoke out in defiance of everything that was happening to him.

Hopelessly, but at the very least, actively.

“Y-You know, as often as this happens to me, I still prefer when explanations come before it!” he snapped, tone slurred by the saliva that remained within his mouth. “Y-You claim to know a lot about me, b-but if you actually did, you’d know exactly how much I hate not understanding what’s going on around me!”

“I don’t need you to explain everything! I just n-need to know enough to make all of this more bear—”

**“Shhhh. It’s okay, Creator. It’s okay if Wendy’s throat feels better than you think it should. We were designed this way, remember?”**

Mid tangent, the lips and tongue that Ein had broken away from were applied to an utterance that stopped his own in its tracks. Younger than Mika’s and looser than Wendy’s, its quality momentarily deafened him to the sounds and sensations writhing at his crotch.

Contrary to the event’s implications, this represented an exacerbation of his strife as opposed to a mitigation of it.

“We were told about the strange habits you’ve developed with managing yourself. They’d likely be effective if you were a machine, but you’re not.”

“You’re a little boy—as much as you might believe otherwise. That means that sometimes, you’re going to need others to look after you in ways that you might not be able to understand…”

“And who better to do that than your children?”

Something about these words as spoken by the Relief Android that had kissed him robbed Ein of the ability to speak. Reigning in his body’s desire to pant weakly in response to Wendy’s throating remained doable for him, as did willing his mind to think about why her words had been so effective in the first place. 

All the same, an answer worth uttering proved beyond him. The warmth of her breath; the endearing conviction in her tone; something about her response had ghosted his desire for frustrated resistance right out of him.

She knew it, too. Only moments into his silence, the unnamed Relief Android ‘filled time’ in her address by pushing her tongue out of her mouth and plastering its face against Ein’s left cheek. Following her initial lash, she briefly pecked her lips against the smear of saliva she had created before mixing both fractions of her mouth in a tongue-heavy suckling of his entire cheek.

When it finally became apparent that no amount of time would reap a response from the boy, she continued speaking on her own to push her address towards its conclusion. 

This time, however, she did not limit herself to merely requesting her creator’s participation. Like a child privy to exactly how much affection they could siphon from a doting parent, she sweetly begged for the things that she desired in a manner that he was likely to recognize as ‘unique’ to someone else entirely.

“Pleaaaaaaase, Creator ♥? Won’t you allow us to look after you properly?” she began, girlishly. “All you need to do is allow Wendy to grind all of that troublesome cockjuice you amassed out of your cock and into her stomach. You don’t even need to know why—all you need to do is allow it to happen.”

“We were created to support the human race, and that includes you. I can promise that you’ll eventually understand everything that you’re curious about if you participate, so there’s no need for you to force yourself to do everything the hard way.”

“Just give Wendy your smelly babyjuice. Clog her whole stomach with it ♥. Then do the exact same thing to Mika and I wheneeeeeever you feel the need to.”

**“Children exist to support their parents—even if doing so makes them sweaty onahole’s stuffed to the brim with a little boy’s semen.”**

Timed to what was ultimately the unnamed Android’s very last utterance was a marked increase in the level of effort that Wendy invested into her throating metronome. Ears trained onto her sister’s speech and senses focused on the telltale biological signals that coursed through Ein’s lower body, she used the information that she garnered from both to alter her metronome to her suitor’s benefit.

Before taking his member down to the hilt again, she raised her right hand up to the edge of her mouth and hooked its index and middle fingers into the right corner of her upper lip. Fish-hooking herself widely enough to partly expose her teeth, she subsequently focused her throating on the lower reaches of his shaft as opposed to its length as a whole. Over the course of several seconds, the deliberate pace of her pumping became a distinctly masturbatory rifling of her gullet that kept the majority of his cock depressed down her throat at all times. Following a given impression of her lips against his crotch, she retracted a mere trio of inches out of her drooling facecunt before squeezing them straight back down into the humid embrace her oral cavity offered.

The effect of her doing so was twofold. Whilst ensuring that most of Ein’s member was subjected to a perpetual grind against the now writhing depths of her esophagus (this entailing a regular flutter of bulbous gullet-lining against the already-compressed bloat of his cock’s veins), an aggravative ‘scrubbing’ sensation was flicked across the spire’s midsection. 

Designed for both adaptation and improvement, Wendy felt certain that these changes as combined with her sister’s urging was more likely to force Ein’s hand in their favor than not.

However, good odds were not enough for her. As such, she executed a metronome set capable of reaping two pleasure sets for Ein as opposed to one.

Whilst the first wreaked havoc on his cock, the second assaulted his ears.

*GLUCK-GLURSH-SPLORTCH-GLURCK-SCHLRK~!*

Devoid of any sort of pattern or consistency, noises amplified by the fish-hooking of her mouth were fucked from her depths each time she stabbed her skull downwards. Whilst some borrowed ‘quality’ from the mild congestion of her sinuses with mucus, others derived their form from the spreading of her esophagus and its smearing with the same gunk that was drooling out of her nostrils. 

Variety notwithstanding, Wendy was certain that the squelching noises fucked from her skull would contribute to one of two tasks: the acceleration of Ein’s orgasm or the fattening of his load.

Per this belief, it did not come as a surprise to her when several seconds of effort from her saw both tasks accomplished in near perfect sequence.

Right as a series of wriggling convulsions were conducted through Ein’s length, one of his hands shot down into contact with the fringes of her skull. Already privy to what he was attempting to defend against, she released the fish-hooking of her mouth to flatten his arm against his stomach by his wrist, then yanked her skull halfway up from her latest fattening of her throat.

Immediately afterwards, massive threads of semen began spewing out of the tip of his length towards the back of her throat. Each released to the tune of a sodden *BLORT* raunchy enough to suggest that a vessel containing the sludge was hemorrhaging its contents through Ein’s length, his virility through this acquired an impact as much ‘visible’ as it was audible.

Being the woman whose throat was basted with the first elongated spurt of semen to surge through his length, Wendy did not concern herself much with the noises made by Ein’s orgasm. This was not to say that she ignored them; much like the slightest wavering in his breathing and the lively flutter of his heart, her senses were actually too sharp for her to effectively ignore it.

Compared to the sensation of semen clogging her throat and her predisposition for ensuring that as much of it was packed into her insides as possible, ‘listening’ was a waste of time. By training her focus on the inside of her mouth, she was treated to the sensation of heated plaster-sludge drowning her pleasure receptors and the hyperactive squirm of overfed sperm cells against the back of her throat at the same time.

Predisposition and programming dictated that any and all orgasms funneled into her mouth by one of her suitors would induce orgasmic amounts of pleasure within her. Guarantees notwithstanding, the quality of Ein’s seed in particular and the sheer amount of it that she was forced to push through her esophagus time and time again contributed to a particularly large splatter of cuntsyrup jetting out against the crotch of her bodysuit. 

That the sensations she endured and the orgasm she enjoyed did not bleed through her features was purely a consequence of her design. If made to immediately swallow a hand-length burst of mildly lumpy, greyish-white semen heated to an ovary-soothing boil and fattened with nutrients to the extent that it appeared to be melted clay, a human woman was liable to have her facial features contorted by bliss, and her musculature weakened by orgasm. In stark contrast to her human counterparts, Wendy not only accepted the double-thick wad created at the back of her throat, but swallowed down nearly all of its contents instantaneously.

Following a distinctly bloated *GLORP* indistinguishable from a young woman’s downing a hearty gulp of poorly blended milkshake, Wendy widened the distance that separated her from her human peers even further. Having taken care to prevent Ein from spewing his cum directly into her esophagus, she repeatedly swallowed down the bulbous layers of nut fattened to life at the back of her throat each and every time an eruption of semen leapt from the tip of his cock. Simultaneously, she renewed the monstrous swirling of her tongue around his glans for the express purpose of accentuating and accelerating his release.

Again, these feats were far more impressive in practice than they were in theory. For every bloated thread of balljuice pressed through Ein’s urethra, a blotch of the substance thick enough to both clog and obscure the mouth of her throat was created. Whilst constituting them, the substance’s mimicry of a bulbous melted clay became even more outrageous. Nearly chewable and hardly drinkable, their seconds-long persistence suggested that several strenuous gulps would be required to clear even one through her esophagus.

Wendy, however, required only one. Missing only the slightest specs of the substance per strand, she gulped down the volume of each ejection almost directly after they made contact with her throat. As a result of her proactivity, some failed to even form the wads that she struggled with. Without a loss of their shape or lengths as strands, all of their contents were sucked through her esophagus like bulbous ejections of sludge through a syringe.

Physically, the price her frame paid for this was significant. Seconds into Ein’s release, muted blurts of semen burst from her nostrils as a result of the rate at which she was consuming semen, and voluminous ‘snail-trails’ of the substance were drawn out from the mouth of her esophagus all the way down into her stomach.

But, regardless of what she endured, Wendy did not stop. Eyes indifferent and pace unyielding, she maintained her gulping and swirling without stuttering even once. And, despite having effectively trapped the boy with her mouth’s suction (not to mention the insurmountable compression of his arm against his stomach), she even found it within herself to exacerbate her control of proceedings with a forceful flattening of her left palm against his inner thigh.

In this, she was every bit the machine that she claimed to be; a tool unwilling to be stopped until it accomplished the task set out for it.

For Ein, the seamlessness of her approach translated out to an experience both mind-rending and tooth-chipping. Despite having attempted to take control of his release as it began, Wendy’s commitment to her purpose denied him even this. For several agonizing seconds, the only thing that he could do was mitigate the trembling of his hips whilst semen was siphoned out of him gulp by gulp.

Initially, the severity of his circumstance left him convinced that he’d be allowed to do so in silence. According to the reproductive euphoria seeping into his consciousness, a stimuli capable of altering the potency of his release did not exist.

But then, the Relief Android suckling to his face spoke.

“See? You’re such a good boy when you want to be, Creator ♥. You’re making Wendy gulp down your semen so so hard just to get the tiniest globs down.” she exhaled, sweetly. “You’re almoooost done. Just make sure every nasty wad of babyjuice ends up stuffed inside her stomach. Let her slurp out every drop ♥.”

“Hehe, isn’t receiving support every once in a while pleasant?”

Though his grit teeth and trembling hips may have suggested otherwise, an answer to the Relief Android’s question was plated at the tip of Ein’s tongue right after she produced it. Uttering it was the difficult part; since she had started speaking, both his lungs and throat had resorted to active rebellion against his will in search of catharsis for his frame. For as much as the outflow of semen from the tip of his length had ebbed, the orgasm rippling through his psyche remained potent enough to preoccupy his lungs with stuttered exhalations, and his throat with the task of swallowing down the excess saliva wadded within his mouth.

As a result, Ein was denied use of his words for a period of time that suggested that he actually couldn’t. Still conscious enough to recognize how his state was likely to be perceived, a split-second decision instead prompted him to produce a far less convincing—and as a result, nuanced—response.

Weakly, he nodded his head. More or less aware of the vantage points maintained by the androids surrounding him, he produced a display of agreement that all of them were capable of taking in—if only in part.

As it turned out, an answer along these lines was what his foremost assailant had sat in wait for. In lieu of a verbal warning, a pair of soft palms jumped up into contact with his cheeks moments prior to the removal of the intoxicating weight that had been mushed against his face.

Within a few hurried blinks, he could see again. Above him, the smiling, closed-eyed features that constituted Mika’s cream-colored visage sat in a position that he couldn’t ignore.

Expectedly, the establishment of eye-contact between the two of them ushered congratulations from the larger woman and further confusion for her captive.

“I knew you’d be able to understand us, Creator. I doubt you fully believe in our purpose right now, but seeing you at least accept it is very reassuring.” Mika started, warmly. “As long as you accept it, there’s no need for me to assist in restraining you. For that matter, there’s really no need for you to pay any attention to me at all.”

“If anything, you should be paying attention to those **two down there**. From here, it looks like they’re just as happy about your decision as I am ♥.”

Too worn to truly know better, Ein took Mika’s words to mean that the confusion he was experiencing would be resolved with a simple depression of his line of sight. Thus, he produced one without a moment’s delay—and incidentally—without a thought as to what he would see upon doing so.

Like this, his eyes fell on the sight of Wendy’s horizontal posting at the left side of his crotch, and another Relief Android’s downward hunch directly between his legs. 

Whereas Wendy met his gaze with another warm smile ‘perverted’ by the persistence of a single black wire of pubic hair at the corner of her mouth and the drainage of semen down from both of her nostrils, her peer used this as an opportunity to make use of her lips’ alignment directly overtop the still-fattened tip of his length.

Straight afterwards, she acted. Right as Wendy parted her lips to speak, she punched her lips down across the worn bloat of his member until they kissed the slop-smeared surface of his crotch.

Comically, Ein’s envelopment into yet another taxing situation did not render him hard for hearing. Behind the expulsion of a hissed breath through his teeth, Wendy’s voice became as audible for him as the slovenly noises produced by his cock’s depression through yet another lubrication-muddied swamp of esophagus.

The only thing that he needed to do to this was concentrate.

“I must apologize again, Creator. This was Dealia’s idea—or rather, her suggestion. She felt that you’d become much more agreeable if all of us contributed to servicing you in one sitting, so she has taken my place for the time being.” she explained, calmly. “It likely won’t be as strenuous as my draining of you; most of my stomach’s volume has been taken up encapsulating your semen, and given the changes made your biology, it is unlikely that she’ll have to drain out much more.”

“I will be present to assist her with that, so please just try and relax. Seeing you accept this circumstance made me very happy, so I hope you will continue to do so…”

“Of course, ‘hoping’ is not very prudent for someone in my position, so I hope that you will forgive me for **this** as well.”

As soon as Wendy finished speaking, the spread of her lips was drawn wider and wider until the back of her throat was exposed. Freshly smothered underneath the dregs of his orgasm, Ein was presented with the semi-solid pool of semen built up there for three full seconds before it was manipulated into a slow, bubble-fringed boil.

Wendy had begun gargling. Alongside a melodious hum, she projected the sight of disgustingly thick cockjuice fluttering within her mouth right where he could see it. Despite setting her efforts in competition with the monstrous 1-2 metronome of *GLORSH(s)* and *SPLURTS* produced by her sister’s throating, the quality of her efforts was such that Ein could not take his eyes off of either event.

One without knowledge as to why he was so evenly split between the acts was likely to assume that the pleasure he derived from a wriggling tract of esophagus flesh being spiked from a complete envelopment of his cock up to a choking smother of its midsection was comparable to what he earned from watching his semen foam and wriggle within Wendy’s throat.

In part, such a person would have been correct as well. Only minutes past the milking of his member via a much more involved throating pattern, the impression of Dealia’s palms atop his kneecaps and the pushup-like pumping of her gullet along his length was more so unbearable for him than it was pleasant. As such, a certain amount of palliative action—namely the aversion of his gaze from the sight of the event—was to be expected.

Albeit convincing at a glance, the true motivation of his aversion was something that could not be taken in through the eyes of a layman. Belied by his confliction was a deep-seated aversion related to Dealia’s appearance, and yet another confusing conclusion he had made concerning his future creations.

Displayed prominently within the house’s primary living room were photographs of a young woman. For the most part, each one depicted a juvenile version of the adult woman who had assumed ownership of the property upon arriving within the country.

Over time, the adult woman’s existence replaced that of her younger counterpart; a natural occurrence wrought from aging, and to a greater extent, the human condition.

Contradictorily, the spitting image of the young woman presently sat hunched in the midst of messily pressing a vibrant loaf of enflamed cockflesh in and out of her esophagus. From the shape of her face to the coloration of her eyes, her features perfectly replicated those of the photographed young woman whilst also improving on their vivaciousness in certain respects.

Upon catching sight of this congruence, Ein refused to focus his attention on it. 

Were he to, the fact that an 18-year-old version of his mother was hungrily throating the full length of his cock for the remainder of his semen would be added to the list of ‘painful truths’ associated with his circumstance.

Tragically, the choice that he leveraged to avoid this (i.e. the placement of his gaze) was not left up to him indefinitely. Being the same kind of artificial human that Wendy was, Dealia sat in ownership of all of the tools that she required for a succinct completion of her task.

Before long, she began making use of them. Downward plunges made serpentine stabs and retractions made brutally pressurized suckles to Ein’s musk-flavored length, she progressively intensified her throating efforts until the same needy bloating and throbbing that had tempted Wendy into action assaulted the inner lining of her esophagus.

Desperate to in some way mitigate what was about to occur, the sensations conduction through Ein’s crotch drew his left hand down into another repulsive stab at the skull responsible for his stimulation.

Yet again, it failed to reach its destination. Intimately familiar with the boy that she was attempting to drain, Dealia met his left palm with the face of her own, and hilted her lips to the root of his cock after threading her fingers in-between his.

Straight afterwards, Ein’s lips were peeled into a jagged, pleasure-addled parting whilst an all new mixture of guttural noise began rumbling out of Dealia’s face and neck.

*BLORPP!*

*GLRUP—GLRUP—GLLRP*

These were the noises produced by a second eruption of balmy cockjuice out from the nose of Ein’s member into the depths of an orifice designed to consume it. Unlike the last in that Dealia had decided to take the full length of his shaft into her esophagus right before the beginning of his orgasm, no teasing tongue action or pressurized suckling supplemented the lumpy sludge’s outflow. Save the repeated, meat-smothering gulps that she produced to push the contents of each strand into her stomach, each spurt that escaped his cock was allowed to do so without significant alteration.

The consequence for this was a steady compaction of nut throughout the lower reaches of Dealia’s esophagus. As full-length threads of seed were blasted out through the organ’s depths unmitigated, the compilation of their contents (or specifically, the dregs of them left over from each swallow Dealia produced) eventually resulted in a partial clogging of its lower reaches. Succinctly, for as much cockjuice was nastily compressed into her stomach by the second, just as much persisted within the organ after the fact.

Like her predecessor, ‘consequences’ such as this were not especially daunting for her. Being an android, an esophagus clogged with semen was a small price to pay for an effective execution of her purpose.

Nevertheless, she reacted to it. After allowing the majority of Ein’s load to jet out down her throat, she intentionally initiated a sluggish upward peel of her lips well before the ejective convulsions of his member came to an end. As she rose, she sucked at the cockmeat spreading her lips as if attempting to draw melted ice-cream through a massive straw, and in doing so accelerated Ein’s orgasm towards completion. Through this, pungent dollops of cockjuice were threaded out against the upper reaches of her esophagus, and soon enough, the face of her tongue at a far more effective pace.

When at last her lips arrived at the peak of his cock, she did not stop to consider whether or not any of the substance remained within his urethra. Seamless and certain, she wetly popped her lips from off of the tip of his shaft, and smiled thinly after the fact.

One gregarious *GLRSH~* and a twitch of her neck later, the same lips that she applied to this smile were parted in speech.

“…Since Wendy just _had_ to introduce me before I finished, I won’t bother repeating my name.” she began, eyes briefly cast in a disdainful flick towards the woman at her side. “I won’t dwell on it, though. What matters is that I’ve managed to slurp down the rest of your babyjuice like a glorified cocksocket, and that the three of us together have managed to warm up to you a little bit ♥.”

“I think I speak for all of us when I say that I look forward to supporting you in the future, Creator. Oh, and since you were such a good boy, I’d be happy to answer any questions about the future unrelated to our purpose as well.” she added.

“For now, though, I think it’s better that you rest. Wendy and I will be going to inform your mother of the situation, so feel free to relax with Mika for as long as you’d like.”

Understandably, most of Dealia’s address fell on deaf ears. Still committed to a weak, conciliatory huffing induced by the quality of his orgasm, speaking—much less thinking—remained far removed from Ein’s mind.

Since the end of his release, his capacity was limited to lamentation—

Less so for the future, and more so for the loss of his summer.

  
  


  
  
  
  
  



End file.
